


Poison for Your Thoughts

by LuciferianRising



Category: Castlevania (TV), 悪魔城ドラキュラ | Castlevania Series
Genre: Attempted Seduction, Biting, Blood Drinking, Dubious Morality, Hair-pulling, Hello friends it is time for something mildly sexy, M/M, Manipulation, Rutting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-20
Updated: 2017-09-20
Packaged: 2018-12-31 23:40:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12143637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuciferianRising/pseuds/LuciferianRising
Summary: Trevor doesn't need to know, however. This little lie won't hurt him. Rather, Alucard views it as a mutual gain. He'd give the Hunter a good reason to not fear his teeth, but rather, welcome them. He just needed to place the association of pleasure there, and to do that, he'd need a willing neck.Or, that time where Alucard tried to seduce Trevor using his supernatural charms.





	Poison for Your Thoughts

**Author's Note:**

> Another request from over on my Tumblr!

Beggars can't be choosers, but that certainly doesn't do much to quell the growing sense of need that gnaws at Alucard’s psyche like a sinuous disease. 

After all, he could very well be doing without at the very moment, if not for the shocking, yet tight lipped generosity of one Trevor Belmont. Still, though, their little arrangement in regards to his hunger leaves much to be desired. It's one thing to simply sate his thirst, but another to silence his darker urges; many that often have him craving to play the delicate game of cat and mouse. 

It is, unfortunately, in his nature to lure humans close, to use all his otherworldly charm to draw them in and make them feel loved, wanted, protected... only for his lips to meet their neck and lead them into an amnesiac rest. Though Alucard has fought against his more carnal desires for all of his life, it's a bit harder to ignore the saccharine call of a Belmont’s blood, especially once you've had a good taste of it. 

Trevor’s blood does not so much scratch the itch than it inflames it even more, and with each passing knick of his arm - which is beginning to sport more and more unbecoming scar tissue - the harder it becomes to silence that growling desire in the back of his head. The Hunter’s blood sings with generations of potent power, of a bloodline bred to be strong in times that would often break most people. Every drop seems to set Alucard’s nerves alight, makes his body sing with borderline euphoria. It's a chore just to appear civil during these shared moments, to not just voice all of his pleasure at the flavor on his tongue. Alucard is no wild animal, but God, if Trevor sometimes doesn't make him feel like one. 

There's no way to hide the slight tremble to his hands as Trevor holds his bleeding arm over the dhampir’s parted lips, and it's more often than not a messy ordeal. Alucard’s face generally catches the initial few rivulets of blood, and he can't help but twinge with annoyance at the precious waste. It's so much harder to keep the uneven stream dripping into his mouth, and at times, he desires nothing more than to reach up and snag the Hunter’s bloody limb, and clamp his mouth about the wound. He values his life, however, and beats back his primal urges with a pang of bitterness. 

Tonight is different, however. There's something slipping with his morality, a corroding sort of devilish mood overtaking him as he waits for Trevor to meet him in the inn’s rented room. Alucard knows exactly what he wants to do, and pointedly ignores the side of him - his mother's side, no doubt - that chastises him for entertaining the idea. But oh, temptation is so sweet, and he's grown tired of limiting himself to his fantasies. He swears he can feel a phantom ache in his fangs, such an overpowering desire to sink his teeth into something. If there was ever a moment that he felt closer to his monstrous kin, than this was it.

He can hear the faint beating of Trevor's heart, can pick out the steady drum of his pulse before the hunter even opens the door. His scent pours into the room with his presence; youthful, strong,  _ mouthwateringly _ sweet. Trevor Belmont hasn't the slightest idea what his scent incites, is completely unaware of the way that it makes the dhampir’s own heart beat faster with anticipation, or how his stomach goes into knots at the prospect of letting his blood flood into his mouth and coat all the surfaces thickly. His clawed fingers curled into the edge of the bed’s sheets, where he sits, trying to appear as nonplussed as possible. 

Trevor eyes him as he closes the door, seems to shift his attention back and forth from shucking his cloak off and undoing the clasps of his bracers. Alucard watches him, rapt with every moment, his bright gold eyes trailing at first the Hunter’s hands before sliding up to his neck, and then his cloudy blue eyes. He must be careful though, to not let his sudden hunger get the best of him, lest he stare down the Hunter with crimson ringed irises. That wouldn't bode well, at least, not to start off with. Trevor is no stranger to the shift in color, but it usually comes once his blood has hit Alucard's tongue. Enough anticipation at a meal could trigger it prematurely, however. 

“You seem a little… strange. Stranger than usual, I guess. Which is like saying that… Well, you know what? Nevermind.” Trevor tosses his gear aside, lets it land on the worn table that serves as the only other piece of sizeable furniture in the room. “Let's get this over with, so Sypha will stop berating me about putting it off.”

He draws his blade as he steps closer, and if the context of the situation were unknown, it would almost appear as if he were threatening Alucard. Trevor’s footsteps carry him to the foot of the bed, and he stops with the blade pressed against his tanned skin, where crisscrosses of raised, pale lines lay. Alucard allows his eyes to drag over them with open disdain, and thinks of how his teeth would leave a more desirable mark on the hunter. A claim, almost. The thought has him repressing a shudder, and if he felt brave before, he now no longer held any fear at what he was going to do.

Before Trevor can drag the blade across his flesh, Alucard is standing from his seat on the bed, his cold hand ghosting over Trevor's in an attempt to stop him. In compliance, the blade does not meet his skin, but now there's lies a silent question in his blue eyes. When Alucard does not remove his hand from the Hunter’s, there comes the question he'd been expecting, “What's wrong? Suddenly not hungry anymore? Thought it'd been awhile since you fed.”

_ This is needlessly dangerous _ , Alucard thinks, but oh, selfish tendencies are so hard to give up in the face of temptation, and Trevor was a walking monument of weakness for Alucard. He reminds himself that this will not hinder or harm his companion in any way, but if not executed carefully, it could drive a wide wedge in their group. So Alucard closes his eyes briefly and allows a more natural, instinctive part of his being to take hold, allows the unholy and corrupting magic of his kind flow freely through him as his eyes come to open again, though their depths now held something inherently mischievous in them. 

“Please, put that dull blade away. I've grown tired of you hurting yourself needlessly.” Both hands come to clasp about Trevor's own, his flesh warm and calloused to the touch. The grip the Hunter’s fingers possess around the handle loosens, and it falls into Alucard’s palm, where he then places it back in the Hunter’s belt. Alucard makes use of his movements, instills them with a languid sort of grace that he knows will catch Trevor's eye. Nonthreatening, slow, comforting movements, purposely pieced together to instill some ease in his companion. 

He lets his hand linger at the other man’s waist for a long moment, his gold eyes downcast before flitting up and peering curiously at the Hunter from beneath pale lashes. He sees Trevor’s throat bob with a slow swallow, perhaps nervously, and the small upturn of Alucard's lips shows his delight at the notion. All he must do is wrangle Trevor right to where he needs him - soft, compliant, starry-eyed, and enthralled. He'd seen his father do it countless times to his mother, though the key difference had been that she'd been well aware of what he was doing beforehand. 

Trevor doesn't need to know, however. This little lie won't hurt him. Rather, Alucard views it as a mutual gain. He'd give the Hunter a good reason to not fear his teeth, but rather, welcome them. He just needed to place the association of pleasure there, and to do that, he'd need a willing neck. 

One step at a time, Alucard thinks. Patience is a virtue, and if allotted the opportunity, he will take his sweet time unwinding Trevor Belmont, just to wind the man around his own finger. 

“There now. Let us forgo the extra scars. You needn't mar perfectly fine skin for me, anymore.” His voice softens, not to a whisper, but rather a gentle intonation of his words, like the contented sigh of a lover. Alucard chooses not to retract his hand from Trevor's hip, instead favoring to use his other to touch lightly at his arm. A fleeting, cold touch of his smooth fingers and long nails. He can feel the goosebumps rising beneath his touch. “Your generosity is much appreciated, Belmont. A needlessly sweet offering on your part. I thank you.”

It's almost foreign to himself, in a way. Alucard has never quite utilized the inhuman charms of his kind before, but he finds that it comes naturally, like his thirst and his knowledge of how to feed. He knows his eyes are most needed, however. If he can get Trevor to focus on that alone, then his hands can guide and mold the Hunter into whatever he needs. It's how his current touches have yet to raise a single hackle on the man, but he can still feel rationality and reluctance lingering beneath his skin, in the form of his muscles drawing tightly. 

If Trevor has words for him, then Alucard is unaware, because the Hunter’s face is a mixture of slack-jawed awe, and unplaceable confusion. Not bad, Alucard thinks, but he won't earn a tasteful bite with him like that. He'll have to ease Trevor into comfort, and he'll use his voice and touch to do just that. So he allows himself a step forward, and closes what little acceptable space was between the two of them. Trevor’s body is an ocean of warmth, and Alucard is so close that he can feel it rolling off him in waves, inviting him to press his form against his and drink it all up. Amongst other things, of course. It's hard not to become transfixed by the vein that runs along his neck, visible beneath his skin and hot with a nectar so delicious, that Alucard can barely maintain his own breathing. 

His hand leaves the Hunter’s hip, and trails lazily, along with the other, up to his shoulders, where long, thin fingers curl over the swell of them. Even through his clothing, Trevor is invitingly warm. And Alucard, brave as ever, invites himself to press flush against Trevor's chest, his small advantage in height allowing him to pin the man with his vibrant, gold irises. For a brief moment, he spies near Trevor's hairline a bead of sweat, and notices how the other’s breath stutters on itself. The lulling sound of his heart seems to jump for a moment, before beginning to hammer away wildly, pushing hot blood into the tops of Trevor’s cheeks. 

“But it would be a terrible lie to say that I don't desire your neck. I've never prided myself on being a liar, nor would I ever force you to gift me it. That, and your warmth,” A hand falls away, only to curl around Trevor’s back, inviting the Hunter into an icy embrace. “Is quite frankly addicting. I think I could curl against you and sleep for days, if you'd allow it.” Alucard affords him a soft laugh, a wonderful tinkling of his otherwise deep and baritone voice. He cants his head, ever so slightly, and gazes at his companion with affection that isn't entirely fabricated. “I doubt you have any idea of your own charms. If you'd, perhaps, had wandered by my father's castle just a few years earlier, I know of a coven of women who would have loved to have you.” 

At that, Trevor blinks, and it's the first real sign of cognitive motion from him, besides the warming of his flesh. His blue eyes manage to break from Alucard’s own, and they wander down to where the dhampir still has his hand curled over his shoulder. Finally, Alucard receives his first words, and they are not what he was expecting, nor wanting to hear, “Are you… are you trying to glamour me?” 

Of course, leave it to a famed Vampire Hunter to discover exactly what he was trying to do. Alucard feels a line of fear and hesitation shoot through him, because now that Trevor has made it known that he's aware, how will he react? Should he detach himself from the hunter and apologize profusely, blaming his hunger for the underhanded act, or should he continue with an innocent charade? Alucard is not too fond of groveling… “Glamour? I was unaware that speaking the truth could be seen as such a thing.” 

It doesn't seem to convince Trevor, who awards Alucard with a slow, disbelieving shake of his head. The set of his eyes tells the dhampir that he's not entirely impressed with the show, but still, there is no movement made against him. All the same, Alucard is beginning to feel a desperate sort of panic set in, and he curses himself for not being as skilled at seduction as his fellow vampires. But he refuses to back down, not after having orchestrated things this far. So, foolishly or perhaps not, he continues on, and allows his hand to curl against Trevor's cheek, like the soft caress of a lover. “Is it really so unbelievable that what I say is true? Do you think yourself so undesirable, Belmont? Or, does my nature simply pervade into everything I do? Do I make you uneasy? Or is that blush simply one of more innocent nature?”

“I never said any of that,” If there's any objection in Trevor's voice, then Alucard can't hear it. He can feel his nerves, already alight with fear, beginning to calm somewhat at the neutral response. “I think you're putting words into my mouth.” 

“I wouldn't do that,” Alucard nearly coos, his hand straying from cheek to hair, as his fingers stroke appreciatively into it. Trevor’s eyes flutter briefly at that, before closing entirely, and Alucard can feel him leaning into the touch. “Dear Hunter, how long have you went untouched like this? And I speak not of wenches trying to solicit you in broken down villages. Tell me, how far you've been deprived of this.”

“Too long,” Trevor breathes, and his voice is naught but a shuddered breath. Aware or not, it seems as though his charm is working to a somewhat strong degree. Trevor inclines his head just enough to expose his neck, and the motion has Alucard's lips parting wantonly, his thirst surfacing with such a strong grip. 

“Then allow me to give you a gift, Belmont.” He draws closer, dares himself to come a breath’s width apart from Trevor's lips. It's a dangerous game that he's playing, tempting a lion in wait like he is. At any moment, Trevor's fist could snap his nose sideways, but perhaps that merely adds an element of excitement to it all. Playing with fire, Alucard supposes. His heart stirs in his chest, a cold rhythm of adrenaline making his hands want to tremble. Up so close, he can better smell the alluring call of his companion’s blood, its thick, sweet melody luring Alucard in like a moth to a flame. He bravely cages the Hunter, forces him to melt into his gold stare, because under Alucard’s eyes lies a dark, tempting suggestion. In a passing thought, he likens himself to a succubus; just as deviously sick and morally corrupt. He can't find it in himself to care. 

Trevor’s hands come up, hovering with uncertainty, calloused tools of destruction that could snap a man’s bones if he wished it. Yet, they linger on the periphery of Alucard’s vision, held in a way similar to surrender, or perhaps something to show fear of touch. His fingers curl, as if in contemplation, a half-thought action dying in the back of his mind before it could be enacted on. It seems almost certain that Alucard is leading him right along, steering the Hunter to exactly where he needs him, and the way that Trevor's eyes close slowly, almost regretfully, has the dhampir simpering at him almost victoriously. 

That is, until Trevor is adamantly shoving him away none too gently, the sudden action taking even Alucard off guard enough to send him tumbling back onto the bed. It feels as if his heart has leapt into his throat. Alucard is certain that his eyes must be an exact mirror of the trepidation he feels at the moment, fixed on a spot on the inn’s ceiling out of fear of making contact with Trevor. His hands are held in front of himself, defensively, as if to ward the sudden rage off. Alucard expects a rain of fists, or perhaps even the crack of that dreaded whip, but the only thing he receives is the weight of the Hunter crawling over him, and the slide of fingers wrapping about his throat, each digit making an express attempt to dig into his pallid skin. The bite of blunt nails has him swallowing thickly, and the hanging of Trevor’s fringed hair tickles at his cheeks.

Above all, it's hard to avoid the way the other man’s teeth are bared into a savage grimace, undeterred anger showing clearly upon his pinched features. Alucard experimentally wraps his fingers around Trevor’s wrist, a silent plea not to try and snap his neck. Never mind that he could easily toss the Hunter clear across the room with a single backhand. It's the principle of the matter that is most important. 

Alucard did, after all, throw himself into this pit. He'll have to claw himself out. 

Yet, the words never find him, and instead, he burns with something akin to shame, and his actions seem much more aberrant and foolish in hindsight. He silently curses himself for allowing his darker fancies to catch up to him, and spends a long moment berating the lack of self control. He's better than this, he knows that, but it doesn't lessen the sting any more. If Trevor were to attempt to strangle him right now, Alucard doesn't believe that he'd have any objection to it. A just punishment for his attempt at corrupting the Belmont. His mother would be ashamed. 

Despite the hand squeezing threateningly around his throat, however, there comes no slew of punches or an attempt to strangle him like a madman. He spares the weakest of glances at Trevor, only to find that his face has seemingly dissolved from a mask of pure, utter displeasure, to something more along the lines of mild annoyance. The grip on his windpipe seems to soften, though it never leaves, but Alucard understands the implication. 

_ Stay put. I’m not done with you. _

“If you plan to hurt me,” Alucard begins, warily and slow with apprehension, “I’d prefer for you to do it quickly.” 

“No,” Trevor grits out, and it seems as if the words are reluctant to spill past his lips. Alucard can hear the slight waver of regret lingering in his tone. “You started this fucking mess. I’m going to finish it.”

Oh.  _ Oh.  _

The kiss he receives feels less like a kiss and more like a punch. It’s bruising with its pressure, and makes Alucard’s lips go white numb from how forceful it is. There exists, for a split moment, the wave of panic that urges Alucard to shove Trevor off of him, his instincts telling him that the lack of power on his end is dangerous, and it probably is. Again, it all comes down to principle, because at the end of the day, he knows he could shred Trevor to pieces, without even the use of his longsword. 

Behind the panic, however, is a coursing sense of satisfaction so strong, that Alucard physically struggles not to voice it with a moan. He disregards the staying hand at his throat in favor of threading his own into the Hunter’s clothing and hair, pulling him down and flush against his body so that even Trevor can’t maintain his hold on his neck. If he’s bothered, he doesn’t show it however, his arms coming to rest upon both elbows as he now takes the role of caging  _ Alucard  _ in. But the proximity no longer incites fear, and the dhampir eagely welcomes the warming sensation of skin lingering by his own. 

There is no rush to his movements, but Trevor is an opposite case, biting hungrily at his lips, hands straying to his platinum hair and yanking, without remorse, his head to the side so that he can better get a taste of him on his tongue. And Alucard, still perfectly capable of wrestling control from this favored enemy of his family, allows him the power to guide the moment. The sense of submission is new to him, but strangely welcome in the way that it makes his heart thump away with a foreboding feeling, his cold skin feeling uncharacteristically feverish and oversensitive. 

And oh, the slick slide of a tongue has him actually keening out a broken noise. The taste alone has him going almost dizzy with want, and deep in his heart he can feel that repressed hunger clawing its way out, demanding crimson to be spilled on his lips. As close as he is, literally wrapped about the dhampir with naught even a hair’s width between them, Trevor’s scent is thick and permeating. His blood sings with an inherent sort of purity, a goodness instilled in his famous bloodline. Alucard can barely remember a time like this, a moment where his thirst felt so scarily in control. Perhaps a few years ago, when his father’s castle was less a home to monstrous abominations and more of a hub for friendly banter and gatherings of both supernatural and human claims. There may have been a pretty girl, or a young man that caught his fancy, but beyond the blood, that was it.

With Belmont, it’s not just the blood, but the flesh too. Alucard suddenly wants  _ all _ of him.

He does not get the chance to try and further things, however, as Trevor is already beating him to the chase. He barely breaks their violent kiss enough to start messily guiding Alucard’s arms out of his coat. If he were human, or perhaps a bit more fragile, he believes that it may have even been painful, considering how fervently the Hunter seems to be in regards to stripping him. Alucard doesn’t mean for his voice to sound winded, but it comes out that way nonetheless, “Are you always so inconsiderate to your fancies?” 

Trevor leans back, enough to allow himself the leverage to begin shucking off his belts and tunic. Alucard’s hands lift, linger forward almost wantonly, but stop just short of touching the other man, his fingers curling in pitifully. Admittedly, there’s something strange about seeing Trevor’s chest bare for the first time, like a taboo sight that Alucard should be covering his eyes at. He instead does the opposite, allows his golden irises to linger over sun kissed skin, to study both scars and physical quirks. He finds a plethora of them, pale and crisscrossed, tell-tale signs of claw marks and uneven maws and even puncture wounds that seem unimaginably painful to imagine. Not a single set of twin dots, however. Not that Alucard thinks that Trevor would ever allow a vampire to come so close to him. Until now, at least.

How special.

“Only to you. Consider it special treatment. Unless you’re afraid of that sort of thing.” He pauses, offers Alucard an inquisitive stare, before he huffs out a bitter laugh, his blue eyes turning mocking. “I shouldn’t even give you a choice, should I? You weren’t going to give me one, after all.” Trevor’s hand smooths its way into Alucard’s hair again, deceptively gentle and slow, but he knows better. It wounds the long, platinum strands around his fingers, looping and looping, the same way the dhampir had seen him do his whip many times. Then, when the knot is gathered tight around his fingers, he yanks hard, mercilessly, sending pain scattering about his scalp. His lips part is a silent cry of pain, his eyes screwing shut, and still, he makes no move to resist. Trevor smiles wolfishly at him, a predator regarding his prey, and the irony isn’t lost on Alucard. “Give me a good reason why, and I might reconsider.”

“There’s no need,” Alucard breathes out on a shaky exodus of breath, and his eyes open slowly, half-lidded, clouded with arousal that seems to have gripped him so quickly and unexpectedly. The stinging grip on his hair earns more of a moan rather than a forlorn groan, and the peculiar noise does not escape Trevor. Alucard swears that the other man almost looks pleased. “Do you think me a coward in the face of pain, Belmont?”

“I think you’re masochistic,” Trevor retorts flatly, and his hand begins pulling up, subsequently raising Alucard by the roots of his hair. The dhampir’s teeth clench together tightly, his fangs peeking over his lips and digging slightly into them. When he’s sitting up, with Trevor still straddling his legs, he finally feels the hand slip from his hair, leaving tiny knots in its exit. “Or stupid. Did you think you’d pull the wool over my eyes?” The other man scoots forward, riding up on a single thigh, and the hand that had just treated his hair as a leash comes to snake around the back of his neck, urging Alucard forward until Trevor can lay a deceptively soft kiss to his lips. 

His hands remain fists at his sides, unknowing of what he should do with them. The tempo of the moment continuously shifts, bouncing from tumultuous one second to sensual the next. Alucard doesn’t know how to read it. “You either succumbed somewhat to it,” Alucard whispers in between the pressing kisses, “or you are a phenomenally good actor.” 

“Let’s ignore the fact that it was wrong, and focus on that. Sure.” Trevor’s sarcastic laugh is offered at the break of a prolonged kiss, and Alucard can’t tell if he seems genuinely angry or not. “But you’ve got me curious, now… why you even tried such a thing. Was it just you trying to find an outlet to get off, or was there something else? Contrary to what you might think, the family bestiary doesn’t cover this kind of content.” 

The itching at Alucard’s fingertips grows to a fever pitch, and finally -  _ finally _ \- he allows himself to touch Trevor, to let his cool fingers wrap about the Hunter’s narrow waist and feel the radiant heat from his skin. There’s a slight intake of breath from Trevor, perhaps a reaction to the contrast in body temperature. Alucard is spurred on by the sound, his own pulse quickening as he allows his hands to stroke up, to feel the rise of ribs and muscle, to trace the thickest of scars on Trevor’s chest, until his hands come to frame either side of his neck. The vibration of blood flow he can feel underneath them is almost maddening, his nails curling in with the need to pierce the skin, to slice deep enough to breach an artery and send blood spilling down his body. He lets the image play out in his mind briefly, sees himself licking up the rivulets as they flowed, his face going messy with smears and drops that splash against his skin. 

Alucard shudders violently, his eyes coming to close as he fights back the carnal urges. Trevor is no fool, is able to piece together the clues; namely in the way that the dhampir’s fingers remain over his jugular, stroking possessively at his skin, desirably. “I know what you want. What you need.” Trevor pulls the dhampir’s hands away, and there’s a slight resistance to it as he does. “The blade wasn’t enough, hm? Don’t want the wrist anymore? Not authentic enough for you?”

He struggles to find the right words, lets a few sentences build on his tongue, only for them to die away shortly. He only manages a simple answer, “It’s not nearly the same. Quenches the thirst, but not the need…” 

“You lot were always stooped in ridiculous erotic imagery. Why should I be surprised that it doesn’t stop at you?” Despite the jabbing accusation, Trevor’s movements are the exact opposite. He leans forward, and draws one of Alucard’s hands back to his neck, allows him the brief pleasure of feeling that slight throb that moves in sync with his heartbeat. His head cants, tilts enough to expose the expanse of it, to reveal the faint blue vein that travels down to his collarbones. 

It’s unnecessarily cruel, Alucard thinks, in conjunction with his taunting words. “I have the distinct feeling that you’re trying to tempt  _ me _ now.” 

“How does that feel, huh? Not nearly as fun when you’re the one gawking at a piece of meat like a starving man. But that’s not too far off the mark, is it? I’m just a nice looking meal for you.” Trevor’s mouth draws close again, but it instead finds the curve of Alucard’s jaw, and his lips set to lining it with chaste kisses. The brief touch of skin has Alucard trying to suppress a chilled shudder.

“You are tempting, yes. Greatly so, but not merely a meal.” He tilts his head back, allows the Hunter to mouth fully at his neck, and the feel of both teeth and tongue biting bruisingly at his flesh has Alucard breathing out a trembling moan. His hands come to clutch at Trevor’s arms, nails denting skin as he curls them in wantonly. When he finds his voice again, it’s uneven, slurred with thickening arousal. “I only had our mutual benefit in mind upon attempting this.” 

“Weirdly generous for one of you monsters, but I’ll take it.” The hand at the back of his neck pulls him forward, and Alucard is almost alarmed to see that it’s guiding him to the other man’s neck. Trevor must feel the sudden stillness in him, because he’s quickly huffing out a pointed remark, “What’s wrong now? Getting cold feet on the matter? Thought this had been what you’d been craving, vampire.” 

It’s hard to keep the words from shaking violently on their way out. Alucard barely manages to keep his tone somewhat steady as he speaks, “I was under the impression that you’d murder me if I tried. You seemed livid earlier.”

“Call me curious. But you better hurry, lest I change my mind. I doubt you’ll get this opportunity again.”

The confirmation has the dhampir’s mouth watering eagerly, his tongue aching for the first contact of blood. He allows himself to be drawn closer, to the point where his nose touches at Trevor’s throat, where it then skims up to touch just underneath his jaw. The breath he breathes in is slow, appreciative, an action to whet his appetite, though Alucard doubted that he needed to do so. The moments in between were enough to set both arousal and hunger flaming through his veins. “We will see how you feel about that afterwards.” It’s all he offers as an ending clause.

He’s biting down then, sinking his teeth past warm skin and straight into the vein that’d been beckoning him all evening. The flood of blood is immediate in his mouth, gushing hotly past his lips, thick and sweet on his tongue. Alucard can’t fight back the noise that resounds in his throat, the nearly guttural moan of pure ecstasy at the taste. It’s somehow better than it smelled, more delicious than it’d ever been when dripping from Trevor’s arm. The feel of skin giving under his teeth is an instant relief, sating the part of him that craved to tear flesh apart. The living wine is warm as it slips down his throat, sending heat radiating throughout Alucard’s chest. For a moment, his mind goes white hot, blank and blinded in the sheer face of the act, no thoughts flowing throughout it, and only acting on pure instinct.

Faintly, almost like white noise, he can hear Trevor’s own reaction, a sharp, hissing intake of breath that dissolves into a moan as the seconds tick by. He swears he can hear the slight intonation of confusion in the sound, as if the Hunter hadn’t been expecting the sudden shift in sensation. In all likelihood, he probably didn’t. After all, it’s one thing to read speculation in the pages of a journal. It’s an entirely different thing to experience it yourself. 

Trevor seems pleased, though. His breathing turns shaky, his breaths coming in quicker gasps rather than calm intakes of air. His heart beats harder, pushes blood past the wound in quicker rivulets, and Alucard eagerly catches all of it on his tongue. He pulls himself closer, still straddling the dhampir’s thigh, pushes himself flush against Alucard in a desperate attempt to feel skin upon skin, to alleviate the growing sense of urgency that flows through him like an insidious poison. His hips jerk, press forward into Alucard’s own, dig down into his leg in a rutting motion, and the hardness Alucard can feel brushing against him has him responding with equal amounts of vigor. If Trevor’s voice had been limited to sharp hisses of breath before, now it was crumbling into a series of half-finished moans and words that didn’t quite mean much anymore. 

The upwards movement in intensity inspires Alucard to deepen his bite, to threaten to take it to more painful levels than normal. Trevor’s skin gives way even moreso under his teeth, the once twin wounds widening and allowing blood to flow quicker, almost dangerously so. It’s a tender line Alucard is treading, but he can’t be bothered to reign himself back, not while the other man sat straddling his thigh, arms wrapped about him as if he were his last hope, voice a garbled mess of incoherent noises, and hips moving forward feverishly, getting himself off by rubbing against the dhampir’s side. 

The change in pressure does not go past Trevor lightly, either. The first actual cry erupts from him, a sharper, louder noise than any before, and his back arches at the sudden mingling of pain and pleasure, his body nearly tipping back at the motion. Alucard follows him, though, and does end up sending him sprawling onto the bed. His teeth never leave the Hunter’s neck however, even as he maneuvers himself between Trevor’s legs, pointedly mirrors how the other man had been straddling him, and takes up the role of rubbing his thigh against the hardness he feels there. Trevor arches against it heatedly, his back lifting off the bed and sending his chest flush against Alucard’s once more. Fingers clutch at the long strands of bright hair, send vivid red lines down the back of one of his shoulders. Trevor’s voice is settled right by his ear, his breaths wet and warm against his skin, his voice a pitched up echo of itself. 

The sensations and noises have Alucard feeling positively ravenous, all his dual hungers converging into a single singularity; all consuming, the only thing he can pay any mind to. But he knows better than to completely hand himself over to his overwhelming desires, knows that it will spell certain doom if he doesn’t reign himself back somewhat. So when he parts from the Hunter’s neck, it’s with a desperate gasp for breath, and with fingers wiping up the stray lines of blood that coat his chin and feeding it back into his mouth. His chest heaves, can’t seem to suck in enough air to make up for the way his heart beats, renewed after such a filling meal. All the while, Trevor’s hands have parted from his hair, have gripped at his hips and continue the languid motion of grinding against him, chasing an end augmented by the bite that mars his neck. 

Alucard, so swept up in the fever of it all, allows himself to be pulled towards release, his head falling back even as blood strays over the curve of his jaw and slips down his neck. He can only offer a series of uneven thrusts, his voice catching on particularly sharp ones that send pleasure flowing throughout his groin and his fingers and toes curling in upon themselves. Trevor doesn’t allow him to be parted from him long, and one of his hands shoots up to yank him back down by his hair, his lips sliding over the bloodstained ones of the dhampir’s, careless of the way it smears crimson across it own face. 

It’s a caged moment, being held so tightly against Trevor, feeling himself being rushed towards a messy and primitive orgasm. Two grown men rutting against each other like desperate teenagers, but neither can be bothered with the chagrin of it all. Alucard can barely think past the ecstasy, past the way his body sings with complete euphoria at both the blood and the physical contact. He’s far gone past the point of trying to appear quiet, his voice rising on moans that increase in tempo as his release looms nearer.  

He tries to tell Trevor, to give him some hint that he’s about to be spent, but the words are incoherent messes on his lips, unintelligible sounds that he can’t seem to make sense of. Trevor knows though, whispers to him in a voice both thick and grated by his own pleasure, his hands petting roughly at his hair, holding him tightly against him as he thrusts up in harsh, jerked motions, “I know, I know… Keep going, just like that, yes, yes,  _ yes _ …”

He’s going taut at those whispered words, body convulsing almost violently with shudders that seem to shake his entire frame. His voice catches on a silent cry, a string of seconds passing before any noise seems to surface, and it’s broken and desperate and needy and throaty. His hands clutch onto something, anything he can curl his fingers around. They must have landed on the sheets on either side of Trevor’s head, as he can barely make out the form of the them tearing beneath his nails. His orgasm stabs at him in waves, earning over-sensitive twitches with each passing tide.

The way that Trevor continues rubbing against him nearly has Alucard keening out a plea to stop, his nerves alight with overstimulation, “Please… please hurry, please…” 

The only indication he receives of Trevor finishing is the muffled sound of a deep groan sounding by his ear, and a tight circling of an arm around his waist. He can feel the other’s hand balled into a fist, his knuckles digging into Alucard’s back almost painfully. Trevor is much more subdued with his noises, but still vocal nonetheless. He fares not much better in terms of words, only managing the occasional curse as his back bows, arching for an extended moment, before he’s collapsing back onto the bed with a delayed breath, his chest heaving desperately for air as he comes down. 

Alucard is much too spent to ponder moving or speaking, though now that the heat of the moment has passed, a certain sort of cautious mood seems to overtake him. Trevor’s blood still coats his mouth, the flavor of it all lingering behind like a sweet reminder, and the wound upon the Hunter’s neck still bleeds lazily. Above all, though, he fears that now, with a settled mind and a sense of reflection, the other man may turn against him.

So Alucard doesn’t wait around, doesn’t punish himself with a dreadful bout of silence, “Am I safe to assume that you won’t kill me now?” 

He gets no immediate answer, just the calming waves of Trevor’s breath slowing gradually. Apprehension is nearly about to take root before the answer finally arrives, “I’d say that after that, we’re pretty even. No killing you tonight.” The punctuating laugh he receives is breathless, full of sarcasm. 

“And tomorrow? I won’t suddenly find my head detached from my body?”

“I’m in a good mood. Stop trying to provoke me.” He rolls to the side, and sends Alucard tumbling off his chest and onto the sheets. For a moment, the dhampir prepares to draw himself away, taking it as a hint to leave him be, but Trevor’s arm do not leave him, nor allow the breadth of space needed to wiggle out of his hold. Instead, he feels a hand pressing to the back of his head, and the pointed feel of a chin resting against his crown. “If you leave, I might reconsider it. So don’t get any bright ideas about sulking off now that you’ve had your fill.”

Is there really anything he can say to that? Alucard doesn’t think so, though the desire to leave was never really there. It is undeniably strange, however, being spooned by a man threatening to lash him with his terribly consecrated weapon.  _ For daring to try and leave him, nonetheless.  _ “I hadn’t taken you for the type to become attached so quickly. But I promise to stay nice and subservient.”

“No strings attached. But the least you can offer me is something to sleep against after doing  _ that _ to me.” He motions briefly with one hand to the dual punctures and crescent bruise painting his neck a deep shade of red and violet. “I was nice to you. Return the favor.”

“Of course,” Alucard retorts dryly, though his thoughts immediately jump to the awful teasing and hair pulling. It’s not enough to hold a candle to what he's done to the Hunter’s poor skin, but still. Who ever said that he wasn’t allowed to be petty? 

The ultimate victory is knowing that Trevor enjoyed it, despite the circumstances of their families or the unsuspected downward spiral at the start. He knows, without a doubt, that all he needs to do is merely ask, and he will never have to suffer through mouthing messily at a dripping forearm ever again. 

In the end, he has Trevor exactly where he wants him.


End file.
